Desperate Measures

49

Stone followed Caroline Whitehorn down a hallway, appreciating the view from the rear, until she opened a door, which turned out to be the mayor’s office.

“Have a seat,” she said, “they’ll be here in a moment.”

“Keep me company,” Stone said.

“All right,” she replied, taking a facing chair. “What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t the vaguest idea.”

“The task force?”

“That must be it.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Retired, a long time ago.”

“How come you’re dry, when everybody else in the group is soaking wet?”

“It’s a long and sad story.”

“I’ll bet.”

Another door opened, and the mayor walked in, followed by Dino, Muldoon, Calabrese, and a uniformed assistant chief Stone didn’t know.

The mayor was Dino’s predecessor in the commissioner’s job and had engineered Dino’s rise in the department. He offered his hand. “Thanks for coming all the way uptown, Stone,” he said. “How come you’re not soaking wet like everybody else?”

“I lead a pure life, Mr. Mayor. God is good to me.”

The mayor chuckled and sat down behind his desk. The others were in various states of dampness. Dino looked him up and down, amazed.

“Don’t ask,” Stone said before he could.

“All right,” the mayor said. “What the hell is going on? Don’t you even have a suspect?”

“We have two, sir,” Muldoon said.

“And who might they be?”

“The ex-husband and Mr. Barrington.”

The mayor laughed out loud.

“Mr. Barrington was on the scene and armed,” Muldoon said.

“Don’t mention Mr. Barrington and the word suspect to me again in the same sentence,” the mayor said. “Who’s the ex-husband?”

“One Donald Trask, former hedge fund operator.”

“I know a Donald Trask from the Athletic Club,” the mayor said.

“That’s the one,” Muldoon replied.

“I can see him as the perpetrator,” the mayor said. “The man’s a bully and an ass.”

“That’s the one,” Stone said.

“So why isn’t he vacationing at Riker’s?”

“Sir,” Dino said, “we’ve got circumstantial and inconclusive evidence, but nothing that will convict him.” He related Trask’s story and what they believed to be the truth. “And,” Dino added, “Alfred Goddard just came on the case.”

“Ah,” the mayor said. “If Trask would just shoot Goddard, we could remove two thorns from our flesh.”

“I don’t think we’re going to get that lucky,” Dino said.

“So you want me to declare this little group a task force so it will get your detectives off other cases and make more resources available?”

“In short, yes, sir,” Dino replied.

“All right,” the mayor said, waving his hands like a magician. “Pfffft! You’re a task force.” He looked around at the silent men. “Come on, one of you must know that joke.”

Stone raised a hand. “Guy goes into a soda shop and says to the soda jerk, ‘Make me a malted.’ The soda jerk says, ‘Okay, pfffft! You’re a malted!’”

The mayor roared as if he had never before heard it. Everybody else pretended to laugh.

“Okay, I said you’re a task force. Now get out of here and clear this case.” He pointed at Muldoon. “And get Barrington out of your thick head!” He shooed them out of his office.

Stone and Dino walked out of the building and stood on the front porch. Rain was pouring again, and a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder greeted them. Caroline Whitehorn was standing on the porch, clutching a folding umbrella. “I don’t think this is going to do it,” she said, holding up the tiny umbrella, “and the motor pool doesn’t have a car available.”

“Can I give you a lift?” Stone said.

She looked at him sharply. “Where?”

“Where are you going?”

“The River Café, Brooklyn.”

“Of course. You can drop me at my house on the way,” Stone said. He looked through the gloom for his car but couldn’t see it. He got out his phone and called Fred.

“Yes, sir?”

“Where are you?”

“They made me wait outside the gate, sir.”

Stone looked at the gate that was about two hundred feet away.

“I’ve got this,” Caroline said. She took a remote control from her pocket and pressed a button. Down the driveway, the gate rolled open.

“Okay, Fred, gate’s open,” Stone said, then hung up.

A moment later, the Bentley emerged from the gloom and stopped. Stone got the door for Caroline.

“How about me?” Dino asked.

“I believe the City of New York provides you with transportation,” Stone said. He got in and closed the door, while Dino got out his cell phone and started calling his car.

“That was mean,” Caroline said, but couldn’t suppress a laugh.

“It’s an unhappy story,” Stone said. “It will save us both a lot of time if you will just accept that he richly deserves it.”

“I’ll try.”

“Fred, please drop me off at the house, so I can get a ham and cheese sandwich on stale bread, then take Ms. Whitehorn to the glorious River Café, under the Brooklyn Bridge, where she’s having a sumptuous dinner.”

Fred got the car back on the streets. “Sir, shall I wait while you eat your stale sandwich?”

“No, I’ll have it alone in the kitchen and watch the rain roll down the windows.”

“Oh, all right!” Caroline said. “Would you like to join me?”

“That depends on who you’re joining,” Stone said. “He might not fully appreciate my company.”

“It’s not a he, it’s a she.”

“In that case, I’d love to join you. Fred, never mind the stale sandwich. We’ll both go to the River Café.” He turned to Caroline. “Dinner will be on me.”

“Are you sure you can afford three meals at the River Café?”

“Fred can sell the Bentley while we’re dining.”

“Yes, sir!” Fred said. “I’m sure I can get top dollar in Brooklyn!”